


Flesh

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Being Human (US/Canada)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Drunk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 17:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've made your bed, now lie in it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bishopsorphan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bishopsorphan).



> For bishopsorphan with this being the prompt: "the shipper in me wants it to be four episodes of sexual tensions ending with Aidan and Bishop banging on a pile of corpses."
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the Syfy Network, Muse Entertainment Enterprise, Toby Whithouse, and other official affiliates tied to the U.S. TV Show "Being Human." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Being Human US and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. Syfy Netwok, etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

It’s good like this. Where the scent of blood is so thick in the air, it feels as if they’ve been cleansed and baptized by it. He can taste, still, that B+ blood from the teenager he just recently sunk his teeth into. The taste bumps and slides across the insides of his mouth, clinging onto the taste buds of his tongue that it makes Aidan giddy. Aidan flips onto his back, stretching his limbs like a coy feline, stained shirt rucked up as he moves his shoulder blades up and down until they pop. He’s barefooted and the blood spilt is staining the wood, the scent of death sure to be hard to scrub off later. 

Feast and starvation. This was the feast, either sitting stupidly awaiting their death or left empty and lifeless in a makeshift pile.

James Bishop watches what is his. His prodigal son who he has focused all his efforts toward. The eldest vampire has turned to look at his ambitions and his own goals, and they are less his own and more of a crafted throne and cushion he wishes to give and to share with Aidan. The blond only selflessly wishes for a bright and promising future for the younger male, the gradual move up the food chain done with rapt purpose and motivation. There are things that need to change and this broken, archaic system grated on his nerves. That would be his burden to bear, though. He would deal with this when the time and opportunity arises, whether that is next week or a century later. A father should be patient and not create the situation, instead guide and show. He can only teach. 

Aidan is his golden child, impeccably sharp and strong, fierce in battle and his own opinions. Bishop can’t despise such a thing and all children grow to an age where they wish to rebel and gnash their teeth at any suggestion that enters their ear. The vampire can see how each opinion is voiced louder each day and there are days where Bishop’s patience has been strained upon so that he can’t help the bite that comes with his words. 

There are times where both of them will simply stop and stare at the other, feeling the blood they’ve took in from the hour or day before beat and thump in veins crafted out of congealed blood and hunger. It drums and drums insistently in their ears and it’s as if life has briefly been shoveled back in. It’s a curious thing. It certainly makes Aidan draw closer, as if he’ll find the answer of the sort underneath Bishop’s jaw or neck. It becomes a painful waiting game for someone to do something but some matter intercedes that requires attention before it can even occur.

It’s becoming a trend that Bishop instantaneously picks up on and one Aidan continues to be ignorant on. While the vampire is certainly patient and not willing to intrude or force, he could...guide. The blond shifted his focus onto Marcus and checked up less on Aidan until their’s a hand clamped over his forearm, Aidan explaining to him a week later of being suspicious of his actions. Bishop’s features smoothed, tutting at Aidan and explaining laughingly, “Contrary to belief, not all of my actions are malicious.” 

Manipulative, perhaps, but with good intentions. Bishop was simply giving Aidan liquid courage on a decision that Bishop could not make on his own. It does take two. 

“If you missed me, all you have to do is tell me,” he teases lightly and Aidan’s purses his lips, looking annoyed, ready to rebuke those words. A pause follows and Bishop doesn’t press Aidan for an answer. He simply claps the broader male on the shoulder, “Look, how about you join me for dinner tonight? It’ll just be you and myself.”

The dark-haired male works his jaw, eyes moving off of Bishop to focus elsewhere, as if preparing to give an excuse or kindly decline. 

“I just thought since it’s been a while since we talked...” 

It has been but a week, but time apart from his own feels...lacking. There’s a certain sensation of something always missing on your mind, where it’ll cause him to stop what he’s working on to turn around searchingly. It’s not the most pleasant of sensations but, as always, it is his burden to bear. If Aidan wants to spend a decade off in the middle of nowhere to bask in his independence, than by all means. But family needs to come first and how tempting it is to throw a collar on his son, tightening it into submission. James Bishop just wants what’s best. 

Aidan agrees and Bishop smiles at the absence of reluctance in his voice. And here they were, Bishop watching Aidan gorge himself off fresh, healthy blood. It must taste like honey to him, Bishop quietly frowning at Aidan’s exploration of diets. Past month he scrunched his nose at his counterpart claiming to be feeding off those whose life will end soon. The sickly. The old. What frail and disgusting blood. Soon he’ll be telling him how he’s feeding off animals. It’s a reason why this...this was beautiful. 

He looked healthy and active. He tore into exposed necks with vigor and ferocity, no longer sinking his teeth daintily and politely. No, this was the Aidan he pulled from the battlefield. The one who tore and ripped limbs with frighteningly too much ease at the Battle of Antietam. That was a beautiful memory, the two of them making fast friends with Death as they fed greedily on the surplus of food.

“Bishop, come on!” Bishop rises his head in disturbance of his thoughts, watching the younger vampire push himself onto his feet. “This is supposed to be a dinner for two...this feels like you’re just fattening me up,” comes the accusation. 

The blond smirks, head tilted to the right, “You are looking rather...emaciated.”

“Bishop, come on,” he only repeats, giving a playful groan in distress. Aidan is certainly drunk, body buzzed and dazed in a blood stupor. It’s all pulled smiles and lingering gazes that come easy on Aidan’s face, his strong jaw stained in red. There’s something painful on the fact that these have to be the circumstances to garner such a thing. It’s honestly a silly thing to be broken up about, but it does make him feel...lacking. As if he isn’t doing his job adequately enough or failed miserably in his role. He has done his best to not just use his authority on matters, but explain the reasons behind it. These reasons are to help this family and each other. At the same time, he often expresses his concerns and affections to Aidan, wanting to keep that equal balance of warmth and control. It’s disheartening when Aidan and himself cannot come to terms with the other when they’ve gone through so much and Bishop can only bend so far for the vampire. But here Aidan is grinning and coaxing him to join... Bishop complies, rising to his feet and moving slowly towards the younger vampire. 

“You’re drunk,” Bishop points out, smile still on his face, “When did you become such a lightweight?” 

Aidan gives an unattractive snort before he’s watching Bishop eventually move to one of the waiting and breathing bodies. Eyes watch Bishop’s thumb reach out to trace a vein on a pale neck, the movement slow and mesmerizing. Free hand moves to push the body’s chin up, making the neck even more taut and a tendon pressing out of skin. Thumb moves across it, Bishop dipping his head as if to leave a kiss on warm skin. Aidan’s annoyed. He watches as teeth are suddenly exposed, jagged and deadly, prepared to rip the soft flesh of the throat. 

“No...Bishop, wait,” Aidan is heaving out, dark-eyed and moving with purpose in his stride. 

Bishop pulls back. The blond smirks and patiently waits, folding his hands before him, blue eyes following. He watches Aidan move to the body before him, sitting placidly like the sheep that it is, before teeth are sinking in. Not even a peep to be made. The blond is intrigued as to why Aidan found it necessary to bite his dish. Aidan moves away, mouth closed and facing the tall vampire. Bishop opens his mouth to make a wry remark on swallowing one’s food but the words are being shoved down his throat along with blood and tongue. 

Hot blood is being passed into his mouth, swallowing it down greedily instinctually. 

Teeth instantly click against each other, cutting and nicking the vulnerable flesh of their lips, taste of blood staining teeth and mouth. There’s a sloppiness in Aidan’s movements, a sort of heaviness that protests standing up for too long. Aidan pulls back to mumble out that protest, but it’s lost with the feel of a mouth sucking on his lower lip. It’s enough for Aidan to briefly forget his own dilemma, a pleased sound filtering through, hands reaching out to grip the fabric of Bishop’s sweater. 

Aidan can feel the control quietly move to Bishop, always having this simple and discreet manner of taking the reins when needed. The younger vampire moves his mouth away, lip swollen and ruby red, giving a disgruntled sound, “Marcus. Really? Marcus?”  
 “What?” Bishop asks, blinking in temporary confusion.

“Marcus,” Aidan heaves out, pulling away completely, feeling that urge to sit compel his legs to give ungainly steps back. He gives in and sits down brusquely on the floor, giving a disgruntled sound at whatever is poking him in the side. “Why are you...spending time with him?” He makes an elaborate sort of gesture with his hand and Bishop squints his eyes at it, head cocked to the right. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” comes the simple and curious response, innocent as can be and it makes Aidan look up to the ceiling in disbelief but remain stubbornly silent. 

The blond sighs and moves forward, crouching down before the slumped vampire. “Do I sense...jealousy?” it’s light and teasing, Aidan proclaiming his thoughts on the matter by giving a short bark of laughter in apallment at such an accusation, but his eyes are piercing and there’s a muscle in Aidan’s jaw that’s twitching. “Aidan,” Bishop begins calmly, pale eyes never leaving Aidan’s, “Having you by my side is a blessing. I can’t imagine a day where I wouldn’t put you first. No matter how much we fight, it’s not going to change how much I care about you.”

Aidan gives an evolving smile, where it’s grateful around the edges and relieved around the curves. “I was...rather concerned...if, you know, you had a thing for Marcus,” his chuckle is watery as Bishop gives sigh. 

“Usually polite dinner guests gossip and whatnot after the event, not during it,” the blond informs, moving so his knees now pressed against the wooden floor. Aidan reaches out with a heartier chuckle, fingers curling into Bishop’s sweater and yanking him down. The younger vampire ignores whatever the hell his head bumped into as he presses his lips against the blond, the movement easier and sweet on the tongue with the absence of teeth cutting into each other. There is no rushing with this one and it feels...nice. 

There’s a cool hand resting against his face and he leans against it, soothed and calmed, but the scent of blood is strong. He feels buried in it and it makes his chest tighten but he felt no hunger for blood. He was full. His insides were swimming with the spoils of this night, but it pressed naggingly against that want and need. It makes his hips rise and roll up against the blond above him, and what sweetness was in that kiss was replaced with an aggressive turn. Hips grind down in response and Aidan gasps, earning a tongue taking the given opportunity to lick the blood out of the corners of Aidan’s mouth. The sensation leaves the hair on his arms standing up and a heady groan, his hands moving to push their way underneath Bishop’s sweater. 

He gives an annoyed sound when he meets undershirt, pushing that out of the way so that fingers can touch skin. Aidan shifts and pushes his hips, what felt like an elbow digging into the middle of his back. Pulling his mouth away, he turns his head to see that he’s practically on the finished pile of drained corpses still dripping small remnants and whispers of blood. Shifting uncomfortably, he voices out his discomfort, “Bishop...let’s move.” 

“No,” comes the readied response as cool fingers pick at the bloodied shirt Aidan was wearing, pushing it upward so Aidan can slip it off, “You've made your bed, now lie in it.” 

Knowing Bishop there’s an underlying message behind it all -- a lesson to be taught, but the disturbing thought of being spread opened and taken with his body surrounded by the dead was a sickening, carnal rush. If he turned his head to the right, he could see his work on one of his food’s neck. Neck ripped open where one can see the white of bone framed by the uneven tearing of muscles and tissue. It does feel wrong, but Bishop’s hands are running across his sides, one even parting to stroke his cheek in reassurance. He wasn’t alone in this. It’s...it’s okay to indulge for now. 

Aidan pulls his shirt off, watching the smile slipping on Bishop’s face as he leans down to kiss his collarbone. Bishop leaves a series of wet kisses down his chest till jeans are in the way of his mouth touching skin. The blond moves up an inch to graze sharp teeth across his navel before ordering, “Take it off for me.” 

He does so, Bishop’s teeth still nicking the flesh of his stomach, hands working around the vampire to get the buttons and zipper undone. He does move so Aidan can shove it down past his hips, the blond aiding in pulling the articles of clothing off. He shifts nervously on this bed of limbs, uncomfortable as it may be, not remembering a time that could ever compare to this. 

“Spread your legs.”

Aidan does so willingly, shivering when fingers run across what they can of his backside, feeling vulnerable and inexperienced. Fingers search and explore the underside of his thighs, feeling every bump, groove, and scar. And he’s never been touched like this...with this sort of reverence. It’s pleasant and his insecurities on the matter begin to lesson, before he’s practically squirming and giving a bark in surprise when a tongue runs across his entrance. It makes his toes curl and his legs nearly bend, as if he was about to withdraw into himself. 

When it happens again, Aidan is prepared for it and he hisses through his teeth, eyes staring attentively at Bishop. All he can see is sun-kissed air and the occasional flick of pink, a wet moan pushing out of his mouth when the tongue pushes past that ring of muscle. It’s a sensation that leaves him aching all over, feeling as if he needed to breathe and hold on to something. All he has is what’s before him, and when that tongue delves in just a bit deeper, he grips at his own hair. 

It’s embarrassing how painfully hard he is, leaking onto his stomach and biting his tongue on asking Bishop to get along with it. A twisted part of him enjoys this slow torture, of feeling himself get just touches and pushes of what will push him over the edge, all of it gradually accumulating. A finger pushes in with somewhat ease but Aidan tenses, it’s only the wet path that Bishop’s tongue is making just above the finger that relaxes him. There it pushes further into him and Aidan writhes a bit before settling, panting softly as if he needs to breathe. 

The addition of fingers makes the vampire rest his head back and close his eyes, letting himself groan in the safety of the room. A cool mouth is sucking on his scrotum and Aidan feels his will crumble, demanding hoarsely, “Bishop, stop dicking around. Come on.” 

“Interesting choice of words,” he smiles back, calm and collected as ever, licking his lips. Aidan shoots him a sharp look but it falters when he watches the blond peel his clothes off. Sometimes it’s amusing how disarming Bishop dresses. Despite how deadly and cunning the blond vampire is, the manner of how he dresses is just a false pretense. Aidan admires what he sees, letting his legs be adjusted when Bishop’s hands return to him. 

He grits his teeth when it happens. A hand finds Aidan’s and Aidan grips it tightly, mouth parting as if to make a sound, but nothing leaves it. Each thrust is slow and careful, something the younger vampire is grateful for. Each rock of his body makes that elbow underneath him rub against his spinal cord, the tickling of his upper back due to someone’s hair and there’s the overall arch of someone’s spine in the corner of his vision. Blood and death and sex. It’s a combination that makes Aidan moan shakily, earning a quicker thrust. He listens in rapture to Bishop’s groans that rumble from his chest, transfixed with his parted mouth.

The vampire moans his consent, eyes watching the completely black-eyed vampire slam his hips against his. His pace has quickened, and pleasure has kicked in at a higher intensity than before, something that made each nerve in his system hum in harmony. Aidan wants to say something. To voice that this felt good, what the hell have they’ve been doing for the past handful of years, but all that can come out of Aidan’s mouth at best is Bishop’s name. All he can do is chant it over and over as it’s being manipulated and pulled by the noises leaving his throat. 

_Bishop! Bishop! Bishop!_

Teeth sink into Aidan’s shoulder when Bishop leans forward, angle different and an ache in his leg becoming more prominently known. Pain seared through his shoulder and sparks of that bright pleasure buzzed underneath his skin, gasping and writhing like some fish out of water. He hits his peak hard, not even able to warn to the older vampire, only emit a choked cry. Bishop follows after with harsh thrusts, bound to leave bruises against his backside and underside of his thighs from his hips.

Aidan relaxes, sweaty and smelling like Bishop and dinner. Bishop is busy licking the blood off the bite mark on his shoulder and Aidan is refusing to release Bishop’s hand. It doesn’t seem to bother the blond at all. Sucking on the mark, the blond carefully eases out.

There’s a paternal smile on the blond’s face, fingers reaching out to push the hair off Aidan’s forehead. All the blood in his system and the greedy surplus that he has guzzled down makes him feel flushed from the inside, but this right here...that made him feel surprisingly alive. While he feels cold, his insides -- his mind feels hot. There’s a fire starting around his frontal lobe and it makes it impossible to draw his eyes away from his Maker. Bishop swipes at the tiny pinpricks of blood pushing its way out of mark he made on Aidan. A bloodied thumb draws a short straight line above Aidan’s brows, as if being marked with ash on Ash Wednesday. It feels like a claim. 

Bishop looks proud. 

“I know this may be asking much, but how about you stay over a bit longer for dessert,” Bishop gives a lazy smirk of a sort, body lax and content. 

Aidan stretches, hand still interlocked with Bishop’s, giving a weary laugh, “I hope that’s slang for shower.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review?_


End file.
